Sisters
by Dens Serpentis
Summary: AU Dark AngelAlias xover; Sydney and Max meet as children, and the Bristows adopt Max. What happens when these two action-packed worls collide? Will be SV and ML; no previous knowledge of Dark Angel required! ABANDONED
1. What is love?

Disclaimer:  I don't own anything from Alias, Dark Angel, or _A Tale of Two Cities_

A/N: I know, I know, I should be working on my other two WIPs, rather than starting a new one.  I'm sorry!  I couldn't get this idea out of my head.

A/N2: This is a Dark Angel/Alias crossover.  It begins when they're children, and assumes that Max is slightly older than Sydney.  Sydney's family lives in Seattle, rather than Los Angeles, and SD-6 is located in Seattle.  The year is 2009.  It will continue into the time frame of the shows, with bits of each.

A/N3:  Would it be too much to ask for a bunch of reviews to tell me what you think of this?  Hope not.  Reviews are what make me write.  Really.  Thanks!

A brief overview of the plot of Dark Angel for those who don't know:  Max (X5-452) is a genetically-enhanced killing machine who was created by Manticore, a secret government organization attempting to create the perfect soldier.  Manticore is run by Colonel Donald Lydecker.  The kids are raised from birth as soldiers in a brutal environment which teaches them to kill and to feel no emotions.  Nevertheless, Max and her "brothers and sisters," form close bonds.  One day, when they're nine years old, Max begins to suffer from a seizure due to a genetic anomaly.  Rather than see Max killed so scientists can experiment on her body, Max and eleven of the X5s (as they're called), led by Zack, escape.  During the escape they separate and assimilate themselves into society.  About a year later, terrorists set of an electro-magnetic pulse over the United States which knocks the U.S. from super-power to third-world country overnight by wiping out computers and all other electronic devices.  The X5s adapt.  The government still has technology it's gotten from other countries.  The X5s know that Lydecker will never stop looking for them.  And they will never stop looking for each other.

* * *

**_Chapter 1_**

**_Wyoming_****_, 2009_**

_Breathe in._

_Breathe out._

_Breathe in._

_Breathe out._

_Harsh gasps as air is sucked into burning lungs._

_Leap over root._

_Ignore sudden stinging on cheek._

_Remember to BREATHE._

_Trip over branch._

_Fall._

Oomph.

_Get your head in the game, soldier!_

_Get up._

_Cannot._

_Breathe._

_Get up!_

_Running again._

_Ignore fatigue in legs._

_Dodge trees._

_Suddenly---_

_Pavement!  Lights!  _Shockingly innocent brown eyes._  Screeeeech!  Pain!_

_Darkness. _

* * *

Sydney sat in the backseat of the car, reading _A Tale of Two Cities_ and listening to her parents as they flirted.  She found it highly amusing that Jack and Laura Bristow, who were the only adults to never underestimate Sydney's genius-level intelligence, actually thought their daughter couldn't hear them as they whispered in each other's ears.

To the six-and-a-half year-old, it was hard to stay focused on the book when her parents' antics were so much more interesting.  She watched them giggle and grin with the awed gaze of a child.  However, when she saw her mother lean over to kiss her father, a long and wet kiss, on the ear, her eyes widened and she quickly looked out the window.  She loved her parents, but really, couldn't they restrain themselves?!

She stared out the window.  They were driving through Wyoming at a comfortable pace, the road they were on neatly bisecting a forest.  There was no one around for miles.  The road trip had been her mother's idea.  Laura thought it would be a grand idea for the Bristows to spend a few weeks driving across the country and deepening the already-strong bonds they shared.  Sydney didn't mind; she liked spending time with her parents.  Still, though---_what was that?_

She narrowed her eyes, squinting at the trees a ways ahead of them.  She could have sworn she had seen something...no matter.  Whatever it was, it was gone now.  Right before she lowered her eyes, she saw it again.  Someone was running, fast, through the trees, towards the road.  The same road that Jack was cruising distractedly down at fifty miles an hour.  It didn't take a genius brain to understand the physics of what was about to happen---the runner would reach the road just as her father drove by.

"Dad," Sydney said slowly, but with urgency in her tone.  Maybe she was wrong.  It was her father driving, after all, and Daddy always knew what to do.  "Watch the road."  He was whispering something to Laura.

"Sydney, we don't need a back-seat driver," he said with a laugh in his voice.  He gazed at her in the rearview mirror, his eyes dancing with joy and love of the two women in the car.  Sydney wasn't looking at him, though, she was looking with frantic eyes at the tree line, waiting to see the runner emerge.  Laura, who had been put on alert by the tone in her daughter's voice, saw the figure appear at the same time Sydney did.

"Jack!" she screamed.

"Dad!" Sydney cried at the same time.

Startled, Jack's eyes snapped to the road and he reflexively slammed on the breaks, jerking the steering wheel to one side.  It was too late.

There was a loud screeching noise and Sydney watched helplessly as the car careened toward the figure---no, the young girl.  The moment before the car struck, the girl looked Sydney straight in the eye.  Then Sydney squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of the crash, as the car spun frantically and finally settled down in the center of the world.  The only thought that kept running through her head was that the girl had the saddest eyes.  The girl must be dead.  _The girl had the saddest eyes._

* * *

Many adults faced with this situation would have allowed themselves at least a moment of shocked immobilization before rushing to the girl's aid.  However, neither Jack nor Laura Bristow was a normal adult.  They were arguably the two best strategists in the spy world, both famous to the organizations that they worked for---although Laura's true identity as Irina Derevko was a secret she kept from everyone in the United States.  So, instead of being frozen in shock at what had happened, both launched themselves from the car with grace and skill borne of years of practice, rushing to the girl's side.  Years later, Jack would remember his wife's composure and unusual abilities, and berate himself bitterly, but at the time he took no notice of it; he had more important things to focus on.

The girl lay crumpled on the pavement about ten yards away, where she had flown after being struck.  The first detail Jack took in was that, amazingly, she was still alive, despite the apparent frailty of her thin form and despite the speed he knew he had been driving at when he hit her.  The second thing he noticed was her unusual appearance; though she looked to be about nine years old, her hair was clipped in a severe crew cut, and she wore what appeared to be a hospital gown.  A cancer patient?  Perhaps...but why would she be out here, running as if her life depended on it---and with a speed and resiliency no ill child could match?  After his mind swiftly absorbed these facts, the medic in him took over.  He mentally catalogued her injuries, noting to himself the huge bump on her head, her broken forearm, and the bruises covering what could be seen of her body.  These were the only visible results of the action.  Clearly, though, she had sustained other wounds as well.  Her face and arms were lacerated, he suspected from the bushes and trees she had run through and past in her haste.  She was trembling as if in the midst of a seizure of some sort.  She was also barefoot, and her feet were bloody and raw from her ordeal.  She must have become numb to the pain after awhile, otherwise it would have been impossible for her to run on them.

Not an ordinary child, but a problem to solve later.  For now---"She's alive."

He heard a sigh of relief from behind him and realized that Sydney had joined them.  Laura had known the girl was still living; Sydney had needed his reassurance.  "We need to get her to a hospital as soon as possible, though."

Laura nodded, although he couldn't see her.  "There's one about twenty miles from here."

"Can you find it?"

"Yes."

"Good.  OK, Sydney, honey, you're going to sit up front with Mommy while I ride in back with our friend here.  Are you alright?"  He noted for the first time that she was pale and traumatized looking.

Sydney mustered a tremulous smile, still mute as she looked at the girl's broken body.  Jack still looked concerned, as if he wanted to say something, and Laura looked equally worried, but Sydney quickly pulled herself together.  She began marching quickly back to the car.  Lifting the girl carefully in his arms, Jack followed, with Laura behind him.

* * *

They were perhaps four miles from civilization when Jack discovered the barcode on the back of the girl's neck.  332960073452.  Many adults would have been perplexed as to the meaning of the tattoo; perhaps the girl was in a gang, they would think.  Not Jack Bristow.  With his high-level security clearance, he knew that the girl must be a prototype genetically-engineered soldier from a top-secret government project, Project Manticore.  That explained the buzz cut.  And the hospital gown.  But not the trembling---which was, thankfully, diminishing.  Not some of the bruises he found upon closer examination.  Not her haste to escape from the place.  As a government agent, it was his duty to report the girl in to his superiors.  As a man, faced with the sight of a badly abused young girl, his only duty was to protect her to the best of his abilities---especially when it was his inattention which had led to most of her injuries in the first place.

His mind raced.  Manticore must be very close.  It would no doubt know of her escape, and be searching all nearby towns for its multi-million dollar investment.  Besides, with her enhanced recuperative abilities, she should be able to survive for far longer than a normal human; the fact that she was alive after the accident proved this. 

"Laura, change of plans," he said.  "Let's go home."

He saw her eyebrows furrow in surprise.  "But, Jack--"

Sydney was also looking confused.

"We can talk about it later, OK?  Just trust me on this right now."  His mind continued to race.  Manticore was likely to set up blockades and interrogate the people who drove by.  "In fact...stop the car for a moment."

She hesitantly complied.  He swiftly got out, the girl---452, he told himself---in his arms, and placed her gently in the trunk.  "Sydney," he said, "Out."  She obediently got out and returned to the back seat as he took her place in the front.  "Now," he said, "In a while we may come upon a blockade with some soldiers.  They're going to ask us questions, about the girl, and about the state of our car.  We're going to tell them that we haven't seen any girl, and that our car was dented a while back in an accident.  All right?  We cannot let them know we have her."  Laura's narrowed eyes promised that she would have questions to ask him when their daughter wasn't present, but she nodded acquiescence.  Sydney nodded solemnly.

* * *

Sydney pretended to be engrossed in her book when they reached the blockade.  A soldier in uniform, the first she had ever seen, signaled for them to halt.  Jack rolled down the window.  "Hello, Officer," he said pleasantly.  "What can we do for you?"

The soldier's eyes raked the car's interior, taking in the cheerful, attractive, middle-class family within.  His face softened minusculely, and Sydney knew that he had already decided that he wouldn't find the girl in _their_ company.   "A girl escaped from a juvenile detention facility nearby," he said.  "Have you seen her?" 

Jack shook his head, face blank.  "No, we haven't," he said.  "We haven't seen anyone for the past thirty miles or so."

The soldier nodded, casually taking in the rather large dent in the side of the car.  "What happened here?" he asked, gesturing at its wound.

Laura sighed and rolled her eyes, looking very much like an annoyed wife.  "Joe here," she jerked her thumb at her husband, "wasn't paying attention to where he was driving three weeks back.  Banged right into a parked car.  We haven't gotten around to fixing it yet."

He nodded again, looking satisfied with the answer.  Then, with a slow movement which indicated he was only doing this because he had to, he looked at Sydney.  "How about you, little girl?  Seen anything suspicious on your ride?"

She decided to play dumb.  She shook her head, the picture of innocent bewilderment.  Suddenly her eyes seemed to alight on the gun in its holster on his belt.  "Ooooh," she said, excitedly, grinning, "You have a gun!  Can I hold it?"

He smiled, then reached through the open window to ruffle her hair like a fond uncle might.  "I don't think your parents would like that," he said.  "What's your name?" he asked.

She grinned impishly.  "Lucie Manette," she replied.  Then, as if returning to the important subject, she whined, "Are you sure I can't hold your gun?"

He shook his head, smile still on his face.  "Sorry, Lucie," he said.  "Maybe when you're older you'll get a chance." 

Jack's face darkened slightly at that, but he still managed to say, cheerfully enough, "Is there anything else, Officer?"

Shaking his head, the soldier stepped back.  "Thanks for your time, folks, and have a nice day!"  He waved them through the barricade, not the least bit of suspicion in his mind.

* * *

Once they were some distance away, Laura turned to her daughter, one eyebrow raised.  "Lucie Manette?"  Sheepishly, Sydney held up the copy of _A Tale of Two Cities_ she was reading.

"Couldn't think of anything else," she said.

"Why didn't you tell him your real name?" Laura inquired, and her tone had a slightly probing measure to it, as if she were looking for something from her daughter's answers.

"You lied about Daddy's name.  I figured we were trying to keep the soldier from knowing anything true about us."

Laura smiled.  "You're a smart girl, Sydney Bristow."  Then, deliberately loud enough for Sydney to hear, she murmured to Jack, "And amazingly good at deception...we'd better watch out for this one, Jack, or she'll become a spy."

Sydney giggled.  "That's me, double-oh seven!"

Jack didn't laugh.  "We'll keep going tonight until we get home," he said seriously.  "We have enough medical kits at home to take care of her.  Then we can talk with her about what happens next."

Sydney felt rather dubious about their ability to help.  After all, her mother was a teacher, and her father sold airplane parts.  What did they know about helping injured girls?

* * *

When they finally reached their house in Seattle, many long hours later, all three got out of the car and moved to the trunk to let the girl out.  Sydney was shocked to find that the trunk was dented upwards, toward the sky, as if the girl had pounded on it forcefully in an attempt to get out, but had lacked the strength.  Jack cautiously unlocked the trunk and pulled it open.  The instant he did so, there was a blur of movement as the girl sprung out, obviously trying to run away.  However, to her shock and dismay, her feet were so agonizingly wounded that she crumpled to the ground, unable to walk.

Sydney started toward the girl, her brown eyes showing her concern.  When Jack reached out to stop her, afraid what this genetically-enhanced killing machine would do to his daughter, Laura put a hand on his arm to stop him.  She shook her head minutely.  She knew that Jack was afraid of this girl, for some reason, but she also knew that Sydney would be their best chance to connect with her.  Sydney could charm anyone she met.

Sydney knelt next to the fallen girl, gently resting a hand on her shoulder.  The girl stiffened, almost imperceptibly, and Sydney pulled back.  Open, friendly brown eyes met cautious, frightened brown eyes. 

"Hello," Sydney said, sticking out her hand.  "I'm Sydney.  What's your name?"

* * *

Max stared at the hand in front of her face, then hesitantly looked up into those frighteningly kind eyes.  What was going on?  Was this some kind of trick, to get her to lower her guard?  For that matter, what was happening in general?  Had the powerful man, the one who bore himself confidently and reminded her of Lydecker, except that Lydecker never sounded remotely happy, driven into her on purpose?  Why was there only one child in the care of two adults---where was the girl's unit?

"...I'm Sydney.  What's your name?"

Max immediately became even more suspicious.  This was definitely a trap.  She was really back at Manticore, and the trainers were using an even younger child to trick her into revealing that she had a name.  She was back at Manticore.

But Sydney---if that was her real name---had those _eyes_.  Max couldn't remember ever having seen eyes before that weren't jaded, that hadn't witnessed unspeakable horrors, that hadn't endured things no human should ever have to endure.  Sydney's eyes were young, a word Max would never attribute to herself, and friendly.  It was the eyes that decided her.  No one had ever come out of Manticore with eyes like that.

So, hesitantly, with a voice rusty from thirst, pain, and fright, she said, "Max.  My name is Max." 

Sydney glowed inside at this small achievement, getting the girl---Max---to open up.  She felt further gratified when she realized that Max's frank appraisal of her offered hand was not contemptuous or unfriendly, but, rather, curious and perplexed.  She didn't know what a handshake was.

So, daringly, Sydney grabbed Max's uninjured arm and shook it up and down, watching the girl's face become even more confused.  "It's called a handshake," Sydney explained, as if to a small child.  "It's what adults do to say hello to each other."

Max nodded.  Then she saluted.

Sydney knew that the image of a nine-year-old girl saluting from the ground should have seemed ridiculous.  On the contrary, she was struck by how precise Max's movements were, how solemn she was in the motion.  It was clearly something she had practiced many, many times.

"That is how adults say hello where I come from," she said.

Sydney grinned and saluted back.

If Max had needed more reassurance that Sydney was not from Manticore, the sloppiness of that salute was enough.  She allowed herself to smile at the younger girl, an action so daring in Manticore, so taboo, she had only ever done it to her brothers and sisters. 

Then her eyes slid past Sydney to land on the two adults standing a ways away, watching.  "Who are they?" she asked.  "The trainers?"

Sydney frowned.  "Trainers?  They're my parents."

Max frowned.  "Parents?  What kind of rank is a Parents?"

Sydney was now staring at her with a mixture of surprise and pity.  "My parents are the people who take care of me.  They made me, I guess you'd say."

Max nodded sagely.  "I understand."  She wouldn't learn for quite some time that her assumption that the two adults had chosen Sydney's genes and then made her in a test tube was completely wrong.

"Do you think it would be OK if they came over now?" Sydney asked reluctantly.  "They want to take care of your injuries.  I'm awfully sorry that we hit you.  But don't worry, my mommy and daddy will make you better!"

Max hesitated.  Maybe this wasn't Manticore, but that didn't mean it was better than Manticore.  Should she be so quick to trust this girl, and her Parents?  What if they took her back to Manticore?

But there were those eyes.  And Sydney had not refused her her name.

"All right," she allowed.  If worse came to worse, she would run away again.  She had escaped Manticore, which was surrounded by barbed wire fences and guarded by soldiers with machine guns.  She would not be intimidated by the brilliant green lawn, more peaceful than any of the flora of Manticore, or the gentle picket fence precariously surrounding this house.

Sydney gestured to them, and the two adults approached.  "This is Max," Sydney announced.  Max stiffened.  Betrayal!  Sydney had revealed her name to the adults...except they didn't seem surprised or angry.  They didn't order her sent for punishment.

Instead, they nodded at her.  "My name is Laura Bristow," the woman said.  She rested her hand on her husband's arm.  "This is my husband, Jack."

Jack knelt in the grass in front of her, so that their eyes were on the same level.  Seeing her stiffen at his proximity, he said, in the same tone one would use to placate a frightened wild animal, "I'm not going to hurt you.  I'm going to take you inside, and we're going to fix up your wounds so you can heal properly.  It is our...duty, since we were the ones who injured you, and you were not our enemy."

He and Laura had spent the past few minutes conversing.  Jack had explained the situation to her, and they had done their best to phrase their offer of help in such a way that she would not be frightened.

She slowly nodded.  "Yes, sir," she said.  She let him lift her in his arms, and he carried her into the house, Sydney and Laura following close behind.

* * *

A short time later, Sydney had been sent to bed (despite her loud protests), and Jack had, with Laura's help, splinted Max's leg and cared for her other injuries.  She had stayed fully conscious during the setting of her forearm, watching intently to make sure that no foul play occurred.

After, as she lay half-propped on the guest bedroom bed, Jack and Laura studied her closely.

A long, awkward silence passed before Jack spoke.  "We, Laura and I, that is, know who you are," he said at last.  "You're a genetically-engineered prototype soldier from Manticore.  You escaped.  You must know that Donald Lydecker will search for you until he catches you; you're too valuable for him not to.  Your presence here poses a threat to my family; if you're found here, we will be guilty of treason and likely arrested."  He saw the tenseness in her body, and knew that she understood full well what he was saying.  He continued, "Nevertheless, the fact is, we admire you for having escaped from that place, and we are not the kind of people who could rescue a child from Hell only to throw her back in.  Especially not when we're the ones who caused you such damage.  Sydney likes you already.  If you would like to stay, we can forge adoption papers for you.  Grow out your hair.  Cover up the barcode.  If you want to stay."

This part she did not understand.  What was he offering her?  What did it matter to them if Sydney liked her, what did it matter whether she _wanted_ to stay; since when did a child's opinion matter?  And--- "What is 'adoption'?"

"Adoption is when...someone else's parents take you under their wing and have you live with them, as if you were their own child."

Max looked dubious.  It sounded a lot to her like trading one prison for another.  How were Parents any better than trainers?

Seeing this, Laura added, "It means loving you as if you were their own child."

"What is love?"

Laura looked immensely saddened by the question.  "Love is...an emotion, a feeling that one person feels for another, a feeling of affection, a desire to protect, a respect.  Love is what I feel for Jack, and why I chose to stay with him for the rest of my life.  Some of the ancient philosophers said it was love that bound the universe together.

Max's eyes widened at this concept, this "love."  She immediately knew what it was: it was what she felt toward her brothers and sisters, what Lydecker never felt towards them no matter how hard they tried.  She felt shocked by this unheard-of proposition.  The adults were actually offering to love her?  Adults didn't love, she knew that from experience.  No, adults could only command, only punish.  Affection only came from one's unit.  And yet, these Parents were not lying; Max could tell by their even breathing and regular blinking.  They honestly believed that they could love her.

"You..." Max hesitated.  Her voice was scratchy with emotion she rarely showed to anyone, even Jondy or Zack.  "You love Sydney?"

They blinked.  "With all our hearts," Laura said.

"She's our everything," Jack added.

"And...and you could feel like that about me?"  Her voice trembled.

As soon as he heard the question, Jack knew the answer.  Though he had had suspicions about her, though he had worried that he would be allowing a viper into his home, he felt peace when he heard her ask.  Hers was not the voice of a killer, not the voice of a soldier who knew only war.  It was the voice of a young girl yearning desperately for affection and love.  "Yes."

* * *

That word set things in motion.  Slowly but determinedly, Max became part of the Bristow family. 

Sydney adored her, appreciating her intelligence and the fact that Max did not look down on her for being younger.  Max learned that a sibling didn't have to be someone you had gone through Hell and back with; she could simply be someone who offered to love you for yourself, and who was ecstatic to have that love returned.  Sydney never asked anything of Max; although she was intelligent enough to know that Max was a special person, she could sense that the older girl didn't want to talk about it, so she never pressed.  Max was given her own room to sleep in, next to Sydney's, and Sydney got into the habit of going into Max's room and sitting on her bed with her, chatting about random topics in an attempt to make Max feel loved.  It worked.

Laura was friendly but distant.  She usually seemed to have something on her mind when she dealt with Max, although she was even more loving than usual to Sydney and Jack.  Max thought she looked almost nervous about something.  _But then,_ she chided herself, _what do I know about adult's emotions?  _Jack made every effort to make her feel welcome, despite the fact that he knew that she was dangerous to be around. 

Despite her unnaturally quick learning abilities, Max had great difficulty adjusting to her new life.  Of course, she reveled in the lack of discipline, but it also took some getting used to.  It took her three weeks before she wasn't saluting every time an adult entered a room---now, she only did it about once out of every three times.  She felt confined and restricted in civilian clothes, but she was delighted that she was allowed to choose her own.  They were invariably black and loose enough for her to move comfortably in.  It took her two years to learn how to speak with contractions without sounding like she was trying to use them.  After that, everything else was relatively easy.  Not having to drill daily and continuously was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

Within only two weeks, Max had begun to gain a feeling of confidence and comfort she had never before experienced.  She still thought in soldier's terms, but even then her assessment of the family was good.  The Bristow family was a well-running unit.  Sydney was the young soldier who had a voracious appetite for learning and who ensured that the family's emotions stayed happy.  Laura was the SIC, the second in command, who taught Sydney and encouraged her when she was down.  Jack was the C.O., and he led his family with a cool collection that was belied by his clearly loving attitude towards his family.  Now Max was young soldier number 2.  She was a part of the unit that everyone was slowly becoming used to.  Theirs was a unit comprised of family and bound by love.

Four weeks later, Laura died, and everything fell apart.

**TBC**

**Review, please!**


	2. The Funeral

A/N: Wow! My sincerest thanks to everyone who reviewed; it's great to hear what everyone thinks. Keep up with the reviews! When I read them I was inspired to sit down and write this bit...I'd especially like to know what you think about the flashbacks in this chapter; were they confusing, or did they work?

A/N2: To answer some questions: I'm planning on this being a M/L fic (Max and Logan, for those of you not familiar), but I could be convinced to do M/A (Max and Alec) if people are strongly inclined that way. I was trying to say, at the end of the last chapter, that Laura died 4 weeks after Max had become rather acclimated; so, let's say, 8 weeks after Max's adoption. The first few chapters are just vignettes setting the stage; the bulk of the fic should take place during the timeframes on the shows.

A/N3: I might have changed a few details about the accident...sorry if that annoys anyone!

* * *

**_Seattle_****_, 2009_**

Max stood stiffly, her posture ramrod straight. If she had been back at Manticore, it could have been said that she was standing at attention. At Manticore, this position would have been required whenever a trainer or officer was present. Here, though, she stood in this way for a completely different reason: it was her way of showing respect for a fallen soldier.

It was appropriate that the sky had chosen to rain on the day of Laura Bristow's funeral. A funeral. That was another of those foreign words Max had learned recently; at Manticore, when a soldier died, he or she just disappeared. His clothes were taken away in the night. His bed was removed. He was never spoken of. Within a day, it was as if he had never existed.

That was what had happened to Max's brother Jack. One day, he had started seizing, and had been taken away by the trainers. Later, Max, on a nightly exploration, had stumbled upon a medical room, where some scientists were cutting Jack up, as Lydecker calmly watched, sipping his coffee.

Max wondered if that was what had happened to Eva, who had been the only one of them who dared to aim a gun at Lydecker during the escape. Eva had been brave enough to aim the gun, but not brave enough to fire. Lydecker had shot her, instead.

Max much preferred this way of dealing with death. Don't pretend it never happened; make a big deal about it, instead, and give everyone the chance to say goodbye.

She looked down at the younger girl by her side. Sydney was crying, her shoulders shaking as she tried not to break down completely. Both girls wore black dresses, and stood near the grave as the downpour continued.

_Riiiing. The doorbell was ringing. _

_Max looked at her bedside clock. It was 11 p.m. She was awake, of course; she didn't sleep. But she had learned that it was unusual for regular people to be out and about after 10:30 or so. Sydney was always sent to bed at 9:00._

_Who could it be? Max crept silently onto the stairs, peering through the wooden bars at Jack as he made his way to the door, as he opened it, as he gazed coolly at the policemen standing there._

Max looked solemnly at the hole in the ground where the men had lowered Laura's coffin. There was a priest---another new word---who was talking about Laura and about someone called "God" and about how much everyone would miss her, but she was in a good place. The good place---Max understood that. It was something she and her brothers and sisters had always dreamed about at Manticore.

_"Tell us about the Good Place, Ben," she used to say._

_"It's where no one ever gets punished," her brother Ben, one of her favorite brothers, would say. "And no one gets yelled at. And no one disappears. And when you wake up in the morning, you can stay in bed as long as you want."_

"Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall feel no fear, for thou art with me," the priest intoned.

_"Mr. Jack Bristow?" one of the policemen asked._

_"Yes?"_

_"I'm sorry, sir, but there's been an accident."_

_"What kind of accident?" _

_"Your wife...her car was just found in the river. It looks like she swerved and drove over a bridge."_

_"Is she all right?" Max could already tell by the policemen's behavior that she was not._

_"I'm sorry. There's no way she could have survived."_

_"So you didn't find her...body?" Now his voice broke, slightly._

_"No, sir. But there's no way she could have survived."_

Max looked up from the grave, her eyes seeking the still form of her foster father, who was standing on Sydney's other side. His face was stony with grief; he refused to allow himself to cry at the funeral. Max could understand that; she had never been allowed to cry for the death of her family, either.

_It was like he ceased to function. Every night, he would open a cabinet and pour out a golden liquid. He would drink a lot of it, until he could finally let himself cry. When he tried to walk, he staggered. When he tried to talk, he slurred. For the first time, Max felt antipathy toward him. Now was when he, as C.O., needed to be strong. His daughter needed him, but instead he fell to pieces. It was left up to Max to tell Sydney what had happened. It was up to Max to hold and comfort Sydney as she tried to grapple with the idea that her mother would never be coming home._

_Sydney was strong, though, and Max was grateful for that. It was Sydney, not Max, who took it upon herself to tell her relatives about her mother's death. It was Sydney who explained to Max what the word "Heaven" meant._

They were tossing dirt onto the grave now. Max felt Sydney's shaking grow worse, and, when she saw Jack made no motion to comfort her, she pulled Sydney to her body, trying to offer her both physical warmth and emotional comfort. Max was not used to being a big sister, but she found that she was good at it. Back at Manticore, she had been the youngest in her unit. The others all looked out for her; Zack was super-protective, Ben told her stories, Jack stayed with her through her seizures, Jondy stayed awake with her all nights, and the others all cared for her. Now, it was her turn to offer support to one even younger than her. No, not just support---love.

_"Do you love me, Max?" Sydney asked in a trembling voice. Unspoken was the fear that no one loved her---this young girl, who had always been surrounded by so much love from her family, suddenly found that, not only had her mother been ripped from her, but her father had become as cold and inaccessible as an ice palace._

_Max thought about it for a moment. Part of her wanted to instantly respond, "Yes," just to comfort her. The other part of her knew that her response had to be honest and thought out; she would not lie to her. There was only one possible response. "Of course I do, Sydney," she said. "You are my sister. I will always love you."_

_The gratitude in Sydney's eyes was heartbreaking. "I love you, too, Maxie," she said, snuggling into her sister's arms and falling asleep._

It was done. Where once there was a hole, now there was a mound of dirt. People began to disperse. Max could tell from the continued trembling of Sydney's shoulders that it would be best for her to go home now. She looked around for Jack; there he was, kneeling next to the grave and looking at it with lost eyes. She started toward him, Sydney holding her hand and walking beside her, when a woman stepped in front of them. They stopped.

The woman was relatively young, and kind-looking. She was crying. "Oh, Sydney, I'm so sorry," she said. She pulled her into her arms. After a long moment, she released her, then turned to Max. "You must be Max," she said, smiling through her tears, holding out her hand in what Max had learned was a handshake. "I'm Emily Sloane; my husband Arvin and I are Sydney's godparents."

Max cautiously shook her hand. "Mr. Bristow and I should take Sydney home now," she said.

Emily nodded understandingly. "Arvin and I already talked to Jack about it, and we're going to take you home to stay with us for a while," she informed them. "Just until Jack is feeling better."

Max's eyes moved to where Jack was still kneeling, unmoving, in front of the grave, and she realized that the Sloanes had seen what she had seen---that Jack was in no condition to be the C.O. of the Bristow unit anymore. Maybe he could become one again someday, but for now...

"All right," she said slowly. She was dubious that Jack would have agreed to let Sydney go home with someone else, but she also sensed that Jack was in no condition to make such decisions right now. Sydney nodded her agreement. They followed after Emily until they reached the Sloanes' car; it was a black Lincoln, nearly identical to Jack's.

"Oh, Sydney," the man said. He gave her a hug. When he turned to Max, she was struck by the look in his eyes. This man was dangerous. This man bore himself with even more authority than Jack. This man frightened her. "You must be Max," he said. He didn't offer to shake her hand.

The four of them stood there for several minutes, each feeling uncomfortable and lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Emily said, "Let's get home, shall we? I'll make macaroni and cheese, your favorite, Sydney."

They climbed into the car and drove away.

* * *

Jack sat in front of the cold fireplace in his home, a glass of whisky in his hand and the near-empty bottle on the table.

_"You took my daughter? What in hell made you think you had the right?" he demanded, eyes flashing with anger---the first emotion he had felt that wasn't totally dulled by his all-consuming grief._

_"Look at yourself, Jack," Arvin said reasonably. "You're a mess. You're drinking yourself into a stupor every night, you're neglecting Sydney. You just adopted another kid, for God's sake, Jack! You need to pay more attention now, not less."_

_"Give her back," he growled. "You can't take my daughter from me!"_

_"Come on, Jack. Do you really think you could go to Child Services, looking and smelling like you do, and actually convince them to place two children into your care?" Jack said nothing. Arvin was right. "Sober up, Jack. Clean up. Then I'll gladly give you Sydney and Max back."_

Jack growled to himself as he looked at the glass of whiskey. To drink, or not to drink? Damn Arvin, anyways, for interfering where he wasn't wanted. He lifted the glass to his mouth, then lowered it before he could drink. _Sydney__ needs me_. _No, she doesn't need me, she needs Laura. **I** need Laura. I NEED her._

Without further hesitation, he threw his head back and drank till his glass was dry.

**_TBC_**

****

**_Review, please!_**


	3. Christmas

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, everyone! I'll do my best to take what you say into account. Oh, and, Carr, don't worry, I thought a little more about it, and...what was I thinking?! M/L all the way!

A/N2: I know nothing about putting people into trances, so sorry if I get things wrong!

A/N3: I'm going to try to make a new rule for this fic: starting now, I won't update till I get 10 reviews for the latest chapter. I'm not promising that I'll update right after, but I'll do my best. And, of course, more than 10 would be greatly appreciated. So, that's right: more reviews=more chapters!

* * *

**_Chapter 3  
_****_Seattle_****_, December 20th, 2011_**

****

Sydney perched on the stairs and eavesdropped on her father.

"Yes," he said into the phone, his voice stony as usual, "Christmas is being taken care of."

She crept back up the stairs to her room with a smile on her face. Christmas! Her daddy was actually going to celebrate Christmas with them this year---and he was planning some sort of surprise ahead of time!

Such had not been the case the past two Christmases. Jack was far from the loving father Sydney used to know. He was never home; instead, he threw himself into his work with frightening intensity. Who knew selling airplane parts could be so receptive to enthusiasm and dedication? The past two Christmases, Jack had been gone on work-related matters. It had been up to Max and Sydney to celebrate as best they could. They couldn't put up a Christmas tree on their own; they couldn't hang lights. But they could buy each other presents and try to cook a turkey, and they did.

Of course, if they had wanted to, they could have celebrated with the Sloanes. A month after the funeral, Jack had managed to convince the Sloanes that he was sober enough to take care of them. This wasn't entirely true, unless by "take care of them" he meant that he could keep the house clean and relatively alcohol-free, and that he could leave them to their own devices. The Sloanes had made it clear to Max and Sydney that they were there for them if they ever needed anything. Nevertheless, the girls had declined to celebrate Christmas with them; while Sydney missed her father, Max, who had needed to have the words "holiday" and "celebration" explained to her, was content to spend the holiday with just her sister. Since Sydney didn't feel as though she _needed_ parental figures there, and Max inexplicable disliked and distrusted Arvin Sloane, they celebrated alone.

In reality, Max was more of a parent to Sydney than Jack was. Max was the one who held her when she was sad or frightened. Max was the one who helped her with her homework. At school, bullies didn't even think about picking on Sydney, since they knew that if they did Max would kill them. She had no tolerance for anyone treating her baby sister badly.

But still, Christmas with only the two of them was invariably laced with lonely melancholy. Having her Daddy home for Christmas would be the best present she could wish for.

* * *

**_December 24th, 2011_**

Sydney would not let him see her cry. Even though she felt the moisture coagulating in her eyes, she refused to let that salt water form into tears, refused to let her father see just how much he had hurt her. She had _heard_ him talking about Christmas! She had been so sure he would be home with them this year.

_"I have to go on another trip tonight. I don't know when I'll be back."_

She stared at her father and he looked impassively back at her. She knew what he was waiting for: he was waiting for her to throw a tantrum, to start screaming at him like she did every year when he did this to her. Then, he would keep looking at her with that impassive face, his calm composure clearly telling her "you see why I don't want to be with you? You're an immature child."

But she wasn't an immature child. She had watched the other children at school. She was very mature for her age; her teachers often wished aloud, when they thought she couldn't hear them, that all their children could be as mature and adult as Sydney Bristow. Whenever they said that, Sydney would glow with pride, and she would think, _How__ surprised will Daddy be when he comes to the parent-teacher conference and they tell him I'm not a failure, after all?_ That hope was always in vain. She couldn't remember the last time her father came to a parent-teacher conference. She couldn't remember the last time he had heard something good about her from an adult. Instead, he saw the way she reacted when he left for his trips, and he came to the only conclusion he could: she was childish and annoying.

This year, things would be different. She would not let him see her cry. She would not let him hear her scream. She would not let him make her feel small or insignificant. _I hate him._ For the first time ever, the thought ran through her head. She tried to shake it away. _He's my daddy. I love him,_ she insisted to herself. _He doesn't love me, that_ hateful voice insisted. _I hate him_.

Suddenly, she couldn't hold it in anymore.

* * *

Jack was surprised to see that, when she looked up at him, her eyes were dry. No hint of the tears he thought had been forming there. He wished there were; he didn't know how to feel when confronted with this emotionless child. At least when she cried, he could feel free to hate himself. He could say to himself, "Look what you've done to your daughter. You've driven her to tears, when she should be smiling." Then he could say to himself, "You love her, though. She's everything to you; your salvation, your hope. You would never want her to hurt."

He could never say it out loud, though. He could only stare at her, wearing his spy-mask on his face, his every emotion carefully concealed by a façade he had built up over thirty years.

"I hate you." At first, he thought the quiet words were in his head, just another of the times when he blamed himself for all of his sins over the past few years. It was only when his daughter told him, a second time, "I hate you," that he realized who was speaking. She was looking him dead in the eyes, a look on her face he had never seen before, and telling him the three words he had never wanted to hear, not from her.

She said it one last time. "I hate you." Then she turned and began to walk away from him.

He knew at that moment that he could fix everything right then. He could run to her and take her into his arms and tell her over and over again his true feelings, "I love you, I love you, I love you," and she would throw her arms around him and forgive him completely. He could tell Sloane that he had decided not to take that voluntary Christmas op this year, that he was going to spend it with Sydney. Sloane would even encourage him to do it.

He didn't. And he knew, when she was gone, that she had walked out of more than just the room.

It was only after several moments of standing there in silence that he realized another place where he had seen that look that was on her face. It was the cold, detached look he saw every time he looked in a mirror.

* * *

****

**_January 3rd, 2012_**

Max heard a noise. A normal person wouldn't have noticed it, the slight creaking in the floorboards, but Max's enhanced hearing easily picked out the noise. 

In an instant she had rolled off her bed and landed on the floor next to it in a crouch. Her room was pitch black at night, just the way she liked it; with her eyesight, she could see in the dark, while any potential enemy would be totally blind.

There was another creak. Whoever it was had passed her room. _He must be headed towards Sydney's room_, Max thought. She was instantly filled with rage. As if Sydney didn't already have enough to deal with; she had been broken up over her father's typical absence during Christmas. Although she had tried to be cheerful Christmas Day, as they burned a turkey and undercooked the stuffing, as she opened the thoughtful presents Max had bought her and watched Max open the presents she had clumsily wrapped, Max had witnessed the haunting pain in her eyes. It had taken all of her self-restraint to convince herself that she wasn't going to kill Jack when he came home.

And now, someone was trying to move stealthily through the house, to Sydney's room. She growled, the sound low and deep in her throat. It was not a human sound, but an entirely animal one. Sydney was her best and only friend, as dear to her as any of her brothers and sisters at Manticore. No one would mess with her little sister.

Max slipped out the door, carefully avoiding each of the creaky spots on the floor, spots which she had meticulously sounded out and whose location she had carefully memorized years ago so that she would never make an unintentional sound while walking in this house.

She stopped when she saw who it was. Jack. She frowned, perplexed, as she watched him quietly open Sydney's door and walk inside. Instantly a thousand horrible possibilities ran through her head, things that had happened to the children at Manticore, things that she had learned were never, ever, supposed to be done to children in the real world. She dismissed that idea nearly as soon as it formed. Whatever Jack was, whatever his shortcomings as a parent, he would never do anything so malicious.

She decided to eavesdrop, and she would decide her course of action from what she perceived to be the situation.

"Daddy?" came Sydney's sleepy voice, and it was clear she had just been woken up.

"Sydney, I want you to do something for me, all right?"

"OK."

"Look very closely at this pendant, yes, that's it, watch it. All right, I'm going to count to ten. When I reach ten, you will be in a trance. One...two...three...four...five...six...seven...eight...nine...ten."

There was a pause.

"OK, Sydney, come downstairs with me."

Max backed away from the door, hiding in the shadows, and watched as her foster father led the entranced Sydney down the hallway and stairs, to the living room. She silently followed.

Jack set Sydney up in front of a table. On it were a number of pieces which were obviously meant to fit together, although it seemed like a very complicated puzzle.

"Put the puzzle together, Sydney."

Max watched in fascination as Sydney carefully fitted the pieces together. She finished it in half an hour. Max was surprised at her speed; she wasn't sure she could have done any better herself.

"Well done, Sydney," came Jack's voice again. "Now put this together."

There were several loud _clunks_, and Max's breath caught in her throat when she saw what he had placed on the table: a high-powered assault rifle. The rage came back. Maybe she should kill him after all. This, what he was doing, was no better than Manticore: forcing young children to become soldiers. The fact that Sydney didn't know it was happening was no consolation. She would be livid if she ever found out that she had been used in such a way; Max could relate.

Sydney put the gun together slowly, clearly uncomfortable handling it, as if she had never held a weapon before. When she had finished, Jack inspected it, then nodded in approval. "Well done again," he told her. "I think that's enough for tonight. Follow me back upstairs."

Max shadowed them once again, listening outside the door as Jack ended the trance.

"I'm going to count backwards from five. When I reach one, you will be sound asleep. When you wake up in the morning, you will remember nothing which happened while you were in this trance. Five...four...three...two...one."

Max crept back to her room and listening intently to the creaking floorboards as he left.

The next night, Max was ready. She waited outside her room, unmoving and invisible in the darkness. This time, she heard him when he reached the foot of the stairs. As he walked past her position, she surged up behind him from her crouch, locking her arm around his neck and tightening enough for him to know that she was completely in control.

"Downstairs," she whispered harshly. "Now."

With no attempt at gentleness, the slight girl manhandled him back down the hallway and stairs. When they reached the living room, she released him, coming around him and forcing him to sit on a chair. She sat stiffly on a chair across from him.

"Make no mistake," she said, her tone deadly. "I can have you back in that position in a blink of an eye, even without the element of surprise."

He rubbed his throat as he glared at her. "I know."

Max couldn't stay seated. She stood up and started pacing, the image of feline grace. "I know what you did to Sydney last night; what you were going to do to her tonight. I won't let you."

"Project Christmas has been sanctioned for testing by the CIA. It has been analyzed, and it won't cause any damage whatsoever," he told her. He didn't sound at all defensive; he was simply stating the facts to her in that stony voice. Neither remarked upon the fact that Jack had just directly told her he worked for the CIA; both knew that Max, with her keen intelligence and incredible observational skills, had figured it out long ago.

"Don't talk to _me_ about sanctioned experiments!" she cried, then started and lowered her voice when she remembered that she was trying not to wake Sydney up. "You forget: _I_ was a sanctioned experiment, and I've been through the hell that came as a result!"

"Don't defy me like this, Max," he said in a soft voice, his eyes steely. "I took you into my home, saw that you were taken care of---don't test me on this matter."

Max snorted. "It's true that you took me in, _Jack_, but you hardly saw that I was taken care of. You can't even take care of your own daughter. Sydney and I are family; you're barely an acquaintance. Don't _you_ test _me_ on this matter."

His lips tightened when she threw his own words back at him. "Believe it or not, _452_---"

In a movement so fast he couldn't follow it with his eyes, she struck him across the face. It was a hard blow...but not half as hard as he knew she was capable of hitting. She was being careful to control her anger.

"452 died when you drove a car into me," she hissed, furious. "I'm Max. Never forget that."

Despite the painful sting on his cheek, Jack felt a moment of triumph. He had gotten a rise out of her, forced her to go on the defensive with his deliberately provocative comment. "Max, then. Believe it or not, Project Christmas is how I'm taking care of her."

Max raised an eyebrow. "Explain."

"I'm training Sydney to take care of herself. I'm imprinting her with skills she can use if she ever finds herself in trouble. I'm seeing to it that she stays safe."

"By making her into a spy? Come on, Jack; some of the things you're teaching her might actually support what you just said, but we both know better analytical thinking, improved spatial relationships, have nothing to do with her protecting herself in everyday life. You're grooming her to be a spy. For some unknown reason, you're trying to make her follow in your footsteps." Her voice was venomous, and the imperturbable Jack Bristow almost flinched at the cool disdain in her voice when she talked about Sydney becoming like her father.

"She'll thank me some day," he said, and there was a wistfulness in his voice when he spoke that revealed his hope that this would indeed be the case.

"She'll hate you for it," Max countered. "You do this---you program her to be a spy, you take away her ability to choose her life---and she'll have every right to hate you."

Jack shook his head, looking her straight in the eyes, and speaking with quiet intensity. "You've lived with her for two years, Max, you have to have seen what I've seen. Sydney is brilliant; she has the potential to be the best strategist the world has ever seen. I want to help Sydney fulfill that potential. Just because she'll be extraordinarily skilled in every field of spying doesn't mean that she has to choose that---this---life. When she's older, I'll offer her a job at the CIA. If she turns me down, then, fine. At least I'll know that she'll be safe."

Max sighed. Perhaps the man had a bit of logic to his argument, after all. That didn't mean she had to like it. "Fine," she said shortly. "But on one condition: _I _teach Sydney martial arts. Not when she's in a trance state, but when she's conscious. I won't let you bungle that training."

He nodded slowly. "Very well. I'll be glad to know that someone with your skills is training her."

Max turned to leave, feeling that the conversation was over. On the threshold, though, she turned to face him again. "You think you're giving her a gift. You think you're giving her what she'll _want_ eventually, the ability to be a strong, independent woman. But keep this in mind, Jack: the thing Sydney _needs_ most of all is for you to be there for her. She needs to know that you love her. She needs you to tell her you love her, and after you tell her, she needs you to show her. If you don't give her that, nothing else you give her will ever be worth anything."

She turned on her heel and gracefully strode away, leaving him speechless on the chair.

* * *

**_TBC_**

****

**_Review, please!_**


	4. Changes

A/N: OK, guys, sorry it's been so long since an update! My muse left me for a while (as you can probably tell by the fact that I skip the next ten years of their lives...), but I finally got an update out.

A/N2: Also, sorry if any graduation details are wrong...I haven't actually experienced it for myself, so I'm not sure exactly what happens!

A/N3: Once again, thank you so much for giving me your feedback, everyone! I'll try to cut back on the amount of Max that I have, since some of you have protested, but I must warn you that Dark Angel and Alias are my two favorite shows, with their two main characters equally ranked in my mind, so there'll probably be a lot of both characters for the rest of this fic. Keep up with the reviews!

* * *

**_June, 2021_**

****

Sydney grinned. She straightened her gown and turned, grinning, to her best friend (other than Max), Francie Calfo, for her approval. Francie gave her the thumbs-up, and Sydney grinned. Francie twirled to show off her own gown, and Sydney grinned. Their other best friend, Will Tippin, entered the room, looking ridiculous with his gown on backwards, and Sydney grinned as she helped him rearrange it correctly.

She couldn't stop grinning.

Sydney was typically a quiet, reserved 18-year-old. Her face was usually somber, sometimes amused, and rarely happy.

But, today, she couldn't stop grinning.

Today was the day she and her friends had been waiting for for years. This momentous day marked the end of their long childhood, the end of the years of living under their parents' roof, the end of a lifetime of supervision and condescension by adults. Now, _they_ were the adults.

Truly, is there anything as sweet as graduation?

For Sydney, this day was even more important than it was for her friends. Max had graduated two years earlier as valedictorian, with grades that could get her into any college in the country, and an attitude that could get her thrown into jail before she spent a week away from Sydney's calming influence. The smoldering resentment towards authority that Max had felt back at Manticore had flourished into full-blown hatred of anyone who attempted to control her. She had decided against college, instead opting to get a job as---of all things---a delivery girl for a company called Jam Pony in downtown Seattle. It was a wonder the company existed at all; its staff---with the exception of the anal manager, Normal---was comprised entirely of people with similar attitude problems to Max's. She fit in perfectly.

Even after her graduation, Max had continued to live at home with Sydney, a sacrifice that Sydney appreciated. She knew Max and Jack didn't get along very well---it had something to do with Max's insistence about teaching Sydney martial arts, she thought---but Max had still been willing to live in Jack's house to keep Sydney company and protect her from the threat of a nanny, something Jack would have insisted on if Sydney had lived alone. When Sydney moved on-campus next Autumn, though, Max would move in with her friend, Original Cindy, from Jam Pony.

Jack's numerous absences had only increased since that Christmas when Sydney had told him she hated him, but even absent his presence seemed to hang like a fog over Sydney's life, dampening her spirits, with only Max, and, eventually, Francie and Will, to offer her warmth and comfort.

But now, she would leave that fog behind. She was the valedictorian of her class, the star student in each of her classes and a star runner on the track team. She had worked hard to make sure that she would earn enough scholarships to pay her entire way through UCLA, so she wouldn't have to turn to her father for money. To that end, she had also gotten a part-time job three years ago, full-time over the summer, to make sure that she had a small but sufficient store of money that would jeep her from relying on her father in any way.

It had been almost six months since she had last seen her father, and, if she had her way, it would be years before she saw him again. She knew he wouldn't be here to see her graduate.

"Syd, the ceremony's beginning!" Francie told her excitedly. Sydney grinned, following her friends out the door.

Her gaze swept the audience, easily picking Max out of the crowd. Max saw her looking and mouthed at her, "Way to go, kid!" Sydney grinned at her. Her roaming eyes then caught sight of Emily and Arvin Sloane, and she waved slightly at them, pleased by the proud smiles they were sending her way.

Most of the ceremony went by in a blur; the speeches and applause, the excited whispers of the eager students, the nervous recitation of her speech through her head over and over again. She couldn't seem to feel anything but numb as she walked to the podium once to receive her diploma and shake all the hands that were thrust into her face, and then she was sitting down again.

Then, she heard herself being called to the podium. "Now, I would like to welcome our valedictorian, Sydney Bristow, to the stand, to say a few words of wisdom to this graduating class before it leaves Jefferson High forever," the odious principal said.

Sydney walked slowly to the podium, grinning. When she faced the crowd, though, her face was somber.

For a moment, her mind blanked completely, and all she could see was Max on this podium two years ago, giving her speech: "We made it, guys! Now, let's go party and raise hell!"

She couldn't help but snicker slightly, and, when she looked at Max and saw one corner of her mouth turn up, knew that her sister was thinking about the same thing. Max had admitted, after, that she had only said what she had said to make Principal Snyder angry.

Sydney cleared her throat, looking down at her feet for a moment, before raising her head to gaze at the people attentively watching her. "When I first came to Jefferson High, I already believed myself to be self-sufficient. My mother had passed away, and my father was never in town enough to actually influence my life. It was just my sister, Max, and me. I thought then that graduation wouldn't be such a big deal; after all, if the excitement about leaving high school was leaving parents and authority figures behind, well, I had already done that." She paused. "I did a lot of growing up over the next four years. I met Francie Calfo and Will Tippin, and realized that I had always had a huge gap in my life before they came along. They were always there to support me whenever I needed it, and I did my best to return the favor. I met teachers, like Mrs. Carlton, who made me realize that adults were just people, too, and most of them actually want to help make our lives better. I learned that my original thinking was wrong: yes, I had been self-sufficient before high school. The problem is, self-sufficiency isn't what's important. It's the other people in our lives who make our lives worth living."

She paused again.

"So, Class of 2021---" she had to wait again as a cheer swept through the students "---this is my advice to you: first, as my sister suggested two years ago, 'go party and raise hell!'" There was another cheer. "Second: stay close to the people who are important to you, whether they're friends or family. I know graduation is a time to move on to bigger and better things, but never forget the people who helped get you where you are."

She paused again, that terrible grin lighting up her face again as she gazed at the students. "Congratulations, Class of 2021," she said, "We did it!"

This time, when the cheers began, it took a long time for them to subside.

* * *

Sydney felt Max's arms close around her, and hugged her back, hard, before stepping back and looking at her face. Her sister looked the proudest Sydney had ever seen her. "I don't know why I feel so proud," Max admitted. "After all, it's not like any of this was a shock." She slung an arm over Sydney's shoulder. "You've been headed toward this end result your whole life."

Sydney felt Max tense slightly, and knew without looking that the Sloanes were approaching. Max always reacted the same way to their---no, _his_---presence. "Besides," Max murmured, so that they couldn't hear, "Obviously valedictorian isn't such a big deal; look how _I _dealt with it."

Sydney grinned. "Maxie, dear," she said patronizingly, "You're a very special person. The fact that you act like a joke means you think it's important."

Max smiled affectionately. "You know me too well, kid," she informed her sister. Her smile changed to an utterly fake one when the Sloanes reached them.

"Congratulations, Sydney!" Arvin crowed, pulling her into her arms for a hug. Sydney grinned at him before turning and hugging Emily as well.

"Thanks so much for coming, you two," she told them. "You don't know how much it means to me."

Emily waved the thanks away. "We wouldn't have missed it for the world! You know you're like a daughter to us, Sydney. We're so proud of you."

"It's a shame your father couldn't make it," Arvin observed. "I'm sure he's very pleased with you, though, wherever he is."

Sydney's grin slipped a little. "I doubt he cares," she said. "Actually, I'm not even sure he knows I'm graduating this year."

Sensing the awkwardness, Emily jumped in, saying, "Sydney, Max, why don't we take you out for a celebratory dinner? It's been a while since we dined together."

Max smiled, grateful that they already had an excuse. "Sorry, Emily, but Sydney and I were already planning on going out with some of Sydney's friends; you know, enjoying being out from under the reign of the adults?"

Emily smiled warmly. "I understand completely. I remember when Arvin and I were just a little older than you, and graduating from college..." Her voice trailed off, but her eyes danced with laughter at the look on her husband's face.

"I don't think these girls would be interested in hearing about any of _that_, Emily," he said with a laugh.

Sydney noticed that Francie and Will were trying to get her attention. "Well, I think it's time for us to be off for that celebration," she said. "Thanks again for coming, it really means a lot to me."

They exchanged hugs one more time, then Max and Sydney turned to walk away. Neither was aware of how similar their strides were as they walked away; they had spent so much time together that Sydney's walk had changed to complement Max's natural cat-like, predatory stride. Walking together, they looked like a pair of dancers or fencers.

"That's one reason I'll be glad to move out," Max said. "I won't be trapped into any more of those dinners with dear Uncle Arvin." She mock-shuddered.

"I've never understood why you don't like him," Sydney protested. "He's a nice man." _Much nicer than my dad_ went unsaid but mutually understood.

"He reminds me of someone I once knew," Max informed her. Sydney shot her a sidelong look; she and Max never talked about Max's past, by mutual consensus. However, when she looked at Max, and noted the faraway look in her eyes, she realized that Max probably didn't even realize she was talking aloud. Suddenly Max shook herself a little and seemed to come out of her trance. Seeing Sydney's curious look, she said dryly, "I didn't like him very much."

Will's voice interrupted their conversation. "OK, seriously? Who's hotter: Brad Pitt or Orlando Bloom? Because Francie says Brad, but Orlando's totally hotter! We need another opinion here..."

Sydney laughed. "Will, you're a freak," she said affectionately. She linked one of her arms through his and the other through Max's. Will and Francie linked arms, and the happy quartet waltzed away, chatting without a care in the world.

* * *

Sydney and Max entered the house at about midnight that night, giggling and grinning like...well...two teenage girls. Not like their usual reserved selves.

Then a dark figure stepped out of the shadows, for once startling both girls. Their reaction was quick though; both immediately assumed fighting positions, with the instinct and grace borne of long hours of practice, flanking out to trap the intruder.

Jack Bristow stepped into the light, his expression dark as a thundercloud. "Sydney," he said in that quiet but threatening tone of his, "Where have you been? You know you're to be in the house by ten."

Sydney glared at him coldly. _How dare he come home and try to dictate my life!_ "We were out celebrating," she said icily. She had to stop herself from saying, untruthfully, _We lost track of the time._ She would not make excuses to him.

"Sydney, you are to follow the rules of this house as long as you live under my roof," he told her angrily.

Sydney looked at her father with hatred. That, coming from him, on _this _day of all days, was too much. She snapped. "Then it's a good thing I won't be living in your house much longer!" she cried. He looked slightly startled. "Or didn't you know? I _graduated_ today. All my friend's parents were there. Heck, even Emily and Arvin Sloane were there. They could tell you, if you ever showed even the _slightest_ interest in your daughter!" She stared in his eyes searchingly, as if trying to find even an ounce of fatherly love hidden deep in their recesses. Seemingly finding none, she sighed. "Well, don't worry," she said tonelessly. "I'm moving out in September, and then you won't ever have to see me again. You can keep selling your all-important airplane parts without needing to worry about Max or me."

She brushed past him without a second glance.

Jack stared helplessly after her, then slowly dragged his eyes to Max, who had been standing slightly apart, watching the whole exchange. "Don't look at me for help," she told him coolly. "I warned you ten years ago that this would happen, but you didn't listen. So, listen to me now: somehow, Sydney managed to grow into an amazing young woman, someone I'm proud to have as a sister, with absolutely no help whatsoever from you. She needed you ten years ago to be in her life; now she needs you to stay out. Kindly oblige this time, or there will be consequences." Her eyes, shooting daggers and deadly serious, informed him that she meant every word.

She swept past him, following Sydney's path up the stairs. "Max---" his voice caused her to pause for a moment. "She's my daughter." She had never heard Jack Bristow so helpless.

She didn't look back at him as she informed him, "No, she isn't. Sydney's parents died in a car accident twelve years ago. I'm the only family she has."

* * *

Sydney was true to her word; she worked hard all summer to save money, and stayed away from her house as much as possible. She and Max saw each other frequently, making it a point to have lunch and dinner together, and she spent plenty of time with Will and Francie. Still, for the entire summer she still had a bitter taste in her mouth from her confrontation with her father. No matter how hard she had tried, she had never been able to earn his approval, never gotten him to tell her, even once, in ten years, that he loved her. How could she ever be happy, knowing that the person she respected the most, wanted the most to love her, thought she hated him and probably felt only disgust towards her?

It was with this feeling of discontent that she mourned the summer's passing, as she moved into her dorm with Francie as her roommate, and helped Max move in with Original Cindy. It was with this discontent that she threw herself into her studies with a devotion that teachers appreciated and other students thought insane. It was with this dissatisfaction lurking in her mind that she was studying one day at a picnic table when she was approached by a very serious-looking man wearing a business suit and bearing a badge.

By the time short months later when she became a spy, working for a black ops division of the CIA called SD-6 to serve her country and protect the people she loved, Sydney felt that there was nothing whatsoever to complain about in her life.

* * *

**_TBC_**

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**_Review, please!_**


	5. New Friends, New Enemies, Old Enemies, a...

A/N: Wow, everyone, I was overwhelmed by all the great reviews! Thanks so much; I really appreciate it, and keep it up, please!

A/N2: Also, this chapter has some Syd/Danny in it because I thought Danny was a great character, but Vaughn should be introduced next chapter, and from then on it's S/V all the way!

A/N3: This chapter the story becomes more AU and it'll probably get more and more that way in the chapters to come...so, I know a lot of details aren't accurate to the show, but I'm exercising my creative license.

A/N4: I just realized that I made an error in my last chapter...instead of going to UCLA, Sydney and her friends are staying in Seattle and going to the University of Washington. Sorry for the mix-up on my part!

**Neptunestar: **Can you think of a principal you love to hate more than Snyder?

* * *

**_December 25, 2022_**

"Let the first annual bring-someone-of-the-same-gender-to-dinner Christmas celebration commence!"

There were cheers all around as cider bottles were popped open and drinks were passed around.

Of course, the party had been Will's idea. Although he would never admit it to anyone, it was an open secret that he had had a crush on Sydney for the past, well, six years; ever since he had met her. She had dated two or three boys on and off in high school, but had had no serious boyfriends, so Will had always felt that his status as hopeful would-be Sydney boyfriend was unthreatened (in hindsight, at least; he had burned with jealousy every time Sydney had announced that she was going out with a new guy).

Those hopes had been soundly dashed at the beginning of their second year in college. Sydney had met Danny, a first-year med student, in the first week of the new school year, and they had hit it off right away. Will couldn't deny that Danny was smart, sweet, bright, and obviously loved Sydney completely. He was perfect for her. _But he's not me_.

Two months after they had met, Will knew that they were serious, and he felt hope slide from his body and land in a puddle somewhere in the region of his feet. After two weeks of moping, he began _Project: Find Will a Girlfriend_.

Which led to today's party. The rules were simple: everyone who came, had to come in the company of another person of the same gender. The idea, of course, was that there would be plenty of single women there to fall in love with him.

Will surveyed the prospects with a sigh. It was obvious his friends hadn't taken his request for a suitable girlfriend-prospect seriously, and he had little hope for tonight to be a success. Francie had brought with her a ditzy looking woman with the name---of all things---Dauren Reel. Dauren was attractive enough, if you liked pouty-looking blondes with irritating rather than endearing british accents---Will was more the brunette-intelligent-types-who-looked-like-Sydney kind of guy. Dauren was a senator's daughter---she had made sure that everyone was well aware of that fact by loudly saying it over and over again. She also didn't seem to have an IQ greater than that of a pea, and she was obviously enamored of Danny and jealous of all the attention he was giving Sydney. Will wondered where Francie had dug her up from, and wished she would go bury her again.

Sydney was obviously getting a good laugh out of _her_ offering for the party: she had brought a girl she was tutoring at a local high school. A fifteen-year-old orphan clearly starved for attention, Jenny had been shooting Will rather frighteningly hungry looks ever since they had introduced themselves. Will noticed Sydney's great amusement at his discomfort and grimaced at her. _Haha, very funny Syd,_ he thought.

The last of the prospects was the worst because she was so attractive and so unattainable. Although Max had been Francie and Will's friend since Sydney had introduced her to them when they were freshmen in high school, whenever they got together, it involved Max visiting them on campus. Francie and Will never visited Max at Jam Pony, where she worked. Which was why Will had never before seen the beautiful young black woman, Original Cindy, accompanying Max to the party. He was sure his mouth must have been hanging open in admiration for at least a minute before Sydney broke into his revery.

"Will, I hate to do this to you," she began slowly, her face totally serious, although her eyes were dancing with laughter, "But O.C.'s a lesbian."

If it was possible for his mouth to fall further open, he was sure it did. "You've got to be kidding me!" he exclaimed. She squeezed his shoulder consolingly, but that didn't stop his frustration from pouring out. "Did _no one_ get the memo as to what this party was really about?" he demanded, trying to ignore the pleasant sensations having Sydney's hand on his shoulder was sending through his body.

At the same time, Dauren's obnoxious voice came floating over to them, saying, "_My_ father's a senator!"

Max, who had come up behind them moments earlier and knew from Will's comments exactly what he was talking about, chuckled. "Don't worry, Will, you'll find the right girl for you some day. You're not the only one in the 'single' group here, you know." Neither Max nor Will ever considered each other in a romantic sense. She was way too much of a tough girl for him. He grimaced at her in what was probably an attempt at a smile, then muttered, "I need to go get some cider."

Max and Sydney looked at each other for a long moment before bursting out laughing. "Poor Will," Sydney wheezed.

Max shook her head. "Served him right for trying to get us to set him up with someone," she said, rolling her eyes. "What is it with guys and needing a girlfriend, anyways? I swear, they only have one thing on their minds..." She didn't elaborate, and Sydney didn't need to ask.

Just then, the doorbell rang, and Sydney and Max went to answer it. When they opened the door, both were shocked at the sight of the man standing on the other side. He was perhaps 25 years old, tall, with cute glasses that didn't serve to hide his piercing blue eyes, eyes that were utterly serious and seemed capable of seeing deep into your soul. His hair was spiky and his face slightly unshaven, as if he hadn't had time to make himself presentable.

He held out a bottle of wine to them as an offering, smiling slightly. "Hi," he said. "My name is Logan Cale; I was supposed to meet Will here about twenty minutes ago, but I got lost."

Sydney expected Max to move to take the wine, but, instead, all the older woman did was stare. Surprised, Sydney smiled graciously as she took the drink from him and ushered him into the house.

"Welcome," she said, shaking his hand. "I'm Sydney, and this is my sister, Max."

Max seized his hand and shook it spasmodically, letting go as quickly as possible. "Adopted sister," she corrected.

Sydney stared at Max in shock. Max had never before made it a point to inform anyone that they weren't related by blood; although their faces were different enough that it was clear they weren't related, they never felt the need to tell total strangers that fact.

The awkward moment was ended as Will called out, "Logan! There you are! I wasn't sure you were going to be able to come." He came over to join them. "Have you two ladies met Logan yet? He's helping us out with the school paper."

Sydney grinned. "That's good; you guys need the help."

"Hey!" Will protested. "It's not our fault our editor sets insanely early deadlines, or---"

Max cut him off. "I'm sorry, guys, but I need to speak with Sydney privately for a minute." She grabbed her sister's arm and rudely tugged her away from the rest of the party.

"What's going on, Max?" Sydney demanded. "You're acting weird tonight."

Max seemed very agitated. She made a slight growling noise in her throat, an animal sound of frustration. "Sydney, there's something I have to tell you."

Sydney frowned in curiosity. Max didn't usually act this mysteriously. "That guy? Logan? I've seen him before."

Sydney tilted her head to the side. "So? Why didn't you remind him that you'd met before."

"We didn't meet...exactly," Max said. She looked almost embarrassed. "OK, you're going to hate me when I tell you this, but...the past few years I've been a bit of a cat burglar in Seattle's wealthier areas."

Sydney's eyes widened in shock. "A cat burglar? Max---you know you can turn to me for money if you ever need it! Or you could even ask my dad...you don't have to do anything illegal."

Max shook her head. "No, Sydney, I need all the money that I've stolen; it's a lot." She sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "I've told you about my brothers and sisters from where I came from, right?" Sydney nodded. "I know I made it clear just how much they mean to me, but maybe I didn't make it clear that I _can't find them_. We separated when we ran away, and didn't have any way to contact each other. When you and I were growing up together, watching over you and developing my new life was enough to keep my mind off of them. Now, though, things are different. You're in college, working insane 'part-time' hours at a bank. I've got a job and friends. It's time for me to---I _need_ to---find my family. Doing that requires hiring a P.I. An expensive one. So I took to cat burgling..."

"How does Logan fit into this?" Sydney asked, although the answer was clear.

"Well, about a year ago, I broke into his apartment. It's really nice, lots of pricey stuff. I just took a few things, but he came in and surprised me. I knocked him unconscious before he could call the guard or anything, and I don't think he got a look at my face, but still...seeing him here just kind of freaked me out. I made it clear to him that we weren't actually related so that if he did remember me he'd be less likely to associate you with the crime."

Sydney sighed and shook her head. "I don't know how to react, Max," she said. "I'm glad that you're finally trying to find the people you care about so much, but doing something illegal to do it? I just don't kn---" She was cut off by a harsh vibrating noise and sensation from her hip. Cursing under her breath, she lifted her pager so she could see what it said. _Sloane---911._ How predictable. "I have to go. Can we talk more about this when I get back from the bank?"

Max gazed at her searchingly. "I think we need to have another talk now," she said slowly. "Tell me, Sydney, what's it been like working under dear Uncle Arvie at the bank?"

Sydney felt panicked. The look in her sister's eyes...that was not a good look. "Um, fine," she said. "He's a good boss."

"Even though he sends you on all these emergency business trips?" Max enquired. "Come to think of it; is Credit Dauphine even _open_ on Christmas? Tell me, Sydney, where's he sending you today, do you know? I'm sure you'll tell Francie and Will that you're going to Chicago, or New York, or something like that, just like you used to tell me. Of course, in reality, you'll probably be off in France, or maybe England, working for the _bank_."

Sydney felt numb. "Probably Africa, actually," she said. "How long have you known?"

"Since you told me that Arvin was your boss," Max said. "He's known you for your whole life, and he thinks that, of all things, you'd make a good _banker_? You forget, Sydney: I trained you in martial arts myself. I know which skills are your best, and sitting behind a desk figuring out a person's finances uses none of them. There's no way Arvin could have missed that."

In a sudden fit of fear, Sydney shot a glance at her friends, laughing and chatting in the next room over. "Don't worry," Max said, reading her mind. "None of them have a clue. You'd have to have experience in this world we live in to be able to see it."

Sydney didn't question the "we." It had been obvious for some time that Max's skills tended towards those Sydney had been trying to develop.

"I really have to go," Sydney said quietly. "But before I do...how do you feel about all this?"

Max smiled slightly, wryly. "Unsurprised," she said. "It looks as if both of us have extracurricular activities we don't like to talk about." Knowing that her answer wouldn't satisfy her sister, she continued, "I know you'll be a great spy, Sydney. I just wish that you hadn't gotten involved in this kind of life. It's unhealthy in the long run."

Sydney stared at her for a second before taking her in her arms and hugging her close to her. "I love you, Maxie," she said, her voice repeating the words she had told her sister so many times over the years.

"I love you, too, Syd," Max replied, hugging her even closer for a minute before shoving her away. "Now, make your excuses to the guests, and get out of here. Go save the world, or whatever." As Sydney dutifully turned to do as Max had instructed, Max couldn't help but murmur, so only she could hear, "I've got a journalist to get to know."

* * *

**_TBC_**

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**_Review, please!_**


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